Daybreak
by FluffleNeCharka
Summary: Rhodey is missing. Tony struggles to find him before he's killed, but New York's criminals are used to thwarting superheroes, lethally if need be. Who will survive the cold winter's night to see the light of dawn? Rated for criminal content.
1. 10PM to 3AM

**Author's Note:** Part of my self imposed challenge to see if I can start and finish a fic in a week. Expect frequent updates and maybe some character death. Maybe. I'm thinking about it. Also, I know this OC is unlikable. That's sort of the point. And if you think you don't like him now, wait. It'll get worse.

* * *

The thing is, I didn't know he was Iron Man's friend.

I didn't mean to bring down the wrath of God on us with a single stupid mistake. But we needed young viable organs and he was alone at night. It was easy enough to slip behind him, follow him from a distance before rushing him. One cholorformed rag later I made the call to Galochio to pick him up. He was there in minutes, while I minded the unconscious body from the shadows of an alley. Good old New York, where nobody saw or they pretended not to see. Didn't matter much which way it went down. In a few minutes he was loaded up and I was on the prowl again, searching for someone else young and disposable looking. I hadn't been in this particular racket for long, though I'd been dabbling in extra income for as long as I could remember. To some people, the events of this night were a tragedy. For me, it was Tuesday.

I think I ended up calling it a night around three. That was eleven people and five hours later. The drive back was nothing extraordinary, a typical December night. The world was pristine and coated in sparkles. My youngest daughter's birthday was coming up and I needed to ask my boss if I could have the day off for it, since I knew I was going to be working Christmas. I never saw Iron Man pass overhead, never got a heads up over the phone that he was lurking nearby. He simply appeared in front of my car, in all his glory. My inky black eyes went wide only because I was startled. I wasn't scared. There was no way on God's green Earth that he could know what I'd done already. I had done much worse things without drawing the wrath of any of New York's superheroes.

"Officer," he said in greeting, almost casually.

I adjusted my cap habitually as I got out of the car, giving him my best serious expression. "Iron Man, sir. What brings you here at this hour?"

The next thing I knew I was in the air, held up by one arm. Sudden movements always hurt, but this was truly unexpected. I stared at him in genuine shock. Iron Man wasn't the freaking Punisher. He was one of the nice guys, the golden boys of superheroes. He didn't pull things like this; he wouldn't seriously hurt me. I told myself that repeatedly as his blue white glowing eyes bore into my own ink colored ones. If he _did_ hurt me it would be unprovoked assault on an officer of the law. There was nothing to be afraid of.

"You have traces of Rhodey's DNA on you. I've heard rumors about your precinct. It doesn't take a genius like me to figure it out. What did you do to him, you sick freak?" Even with the distortion of the helmet, it was clear he was about ready to tear me a new one.

_Admit to nothing,_ I heard my mother's voice say in my head, dredged up from the depths of memory. _Lie like the bastard you are._ I opened my mouth to put my quick tongue to use. "Allegations against my precinct are being investigated by Internal Affairs! They can tell you themselves that we're innocent! I've been working all night, just ask dispatch!"

He seemed to consider this. "Alone?" he asked coldly.

"Do you have _any_ idea how thin we're stretched? I've been on solo patrol for months!" I decided to appeal to his moral decency. "Look, whatever grudge you have against the police, you can't afford to take it out on random officers. Think of the people who're looking at you as a role model. Think of yourself. Do you really want warrants issued for your arrest because of unlawful assault?"

My left arm was growing numb from him holding me by the wrist. My right hand instinctively went to my neck, to clutch at the rosary my mother had given me forever ago. It was a powerful talisman. Nobody ever suspected the religious of being guilty, for one thing, but for another it was also the first thing she ever bought me after murdering my father. It signified the end of our abuse at the hands of a madman and the start of our new lives, lives with control. It reminded me that while I was in the air right now, I was still in the right. There wasn't a court alive that would take Iron Man's crazy accusations over my solemn word. Even if he did somehow have trace DNA he could pinpoint on me, all that proved was that at some point I'd touched the missing person. I could come up with something about having stopped him on patrol...

He looked at me, my expression, my rosary, my face. And he lowered me to the ground, slowly. "Alright, let's try this again. Have you seen a black teenage boy in a gray wind breaker tonight?"

"Yeah," I gasped, rubbing at my sore wrist. "Yeah, I did. Around ten something. I stopped him on suspicion of illegal activity - we have a lot of drug runners who're in that age bracket. He was clean so I let him go."

I looked into his eyes, because people always believed me if I did that. I had black puppy dog eyes that were always a lot more sincere looking than I ever was. My uniform clearly marked me as an officer. I was in my damn car driving well within the speed limit on my scheduled route for patrol. All of this and more must've went through Iron Man's mind as he studied me, watched my every move. The bruises on my arm were going to be fun to explain to my wife and children tomorrow, but I could keep this encounter a secret if it kept me off Iron Man's shit list.

"If you need to find someone, you can fill out a missing person's report," I offered up in a softer tone of voice. "Anonymously, even. Maybe put a word in to the surrounding precincts. You shouldn't resort to violence with Registration staring us all down. If you don't trust cops, well, I won't deny that we've failed people. But you have to think of self preservation. Think of your friend. Alienating the police won't help you find him."

"Fine," he said tersely. "I believe you. For now. Don't make me regret that, Officer..."

"Donato. Vittore Donato."

"Let me make something very clear, Officer Donato. If I find out that you're involved in this, you won't be able to run farther than I can fly. Got it?"

I nodded. "Yes sir."

He flew off, and I waited a few seconds before collapsing into the seat of my car, staring ahead at nothing and clutching my rosary in my good hand until there was a cross shaped imprint in my palm. What had I done? My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do. I settled for calling Galochio, inhaling slowly and trying not to panic. He was onto us, but we hadn't lost the fight. We had a slight problem. We were clever. We operated in a city filled to the brim with heroes. If I could get word to the Boss, he could mastermind something at the last second like he always did, and we would pull out ahead. This calmed my breathing as I waited for Galochio to pick up the phone.

Evil will always triumph, because good is dumb. The fact that this instance of 'dumb' was in a flying suit of armor he'd custom created didn't matter. Because, after all, he wasn't the only one with friends. And my friends had been at this a lot longer than this chump had probably been alive. They'd faced down people a lot more dangerous and won. If push came to shove, I knew that Galochio, Zotello and I could kill him. It would take careful coordination, we might have to beg forgiveness rather than ask permission, but it could be done. A plan formed in my head, as it always did during times of crisis, a beautiful path that ended in his murder and immediate promotions for anyone brave enough to dare get involved. As Galochio picked up and asked casually in Italian what was going on, I smiled.

We had not yet begun to fight.


	2. 3:30AM to 4AM

**Author's Notes:** I'm worried this is getting into Villain Stu territory. But he's not going to win, and he's not intended to be sympathetic, so maybe it's okay? If he gets too Stuish somebody tell me right away so I can keep this from going off the rails.

Shout out to my loyal reviewer and BFF, Soap Lady. Everyone go read her awesome stories. Especially the one with Captain America. :D

* * *

I could be home rewatching RENT right now with my wife before she goes to work, making breakfast for Alessa, Augusto and Marisolla. Asking Alessa if there's anything else she wants for her party. Picking up my payment. Getting groceries.

Instead I was huddled with Galochio and Zanotto, sipping black coffee from one shared thermos, planning out the murder of a superhero.

We'd thought that with the Tong leaderless and stagnant, we'd be able to move in. The organization all new it. We were in the gold now that the competition had been partially disabled, even for a moment. Morale was running high, our ranks had grown and we were no small force to be reckoned with, even if the general public was mostly unaware of us. We went by many names. We lied and pointed fingers at the wrong people, we played games and ran circles around people. And the confidence of the group bled onto its members, filling me with pride and ease in the face of possible disaster.

Another thing keeping me warm in the frigid night was the fact that my best friends were beside me in this. My wife was nice, but she didn't know me. She didn't know my sins, my hopes, my lies from my truths. These two did. Ricky Galochio, my best friend since childhood. His family took mine in when my father died, helped get us back on our feet. He had shared beds, baths and meals with me since I could form memories. We were in kindergarten together, we graduated high school together, and we were best men at each other's weddings. He was smarter than anyone else I'd ever known, smart enough to double major in chemical engineering and computer programming. Any time I needed my ego checked, I could always count on him to do it and then show me his latest invention. The way his smile reached his light brown eyes was as familiar as the unruliness of his bleached blonde hair.

And Carla. Beloved Carla Maria Zanotto, my sister in life. She loved the world and all the things in it, able to take joy from something as simple as a daiquiri or at dark as a murder. Nothing would ever get her down or drive her from you. Her loyalty was hard won over the course of our years in the organization together, but eventually she had become as close to me as Ricky was. She was a good person to confide in and a terror to cross. She reminded me a lot of my mother, actually. Her blue eyes were bright, her cheeks rosy in the cold, her wavy chocolate hair pulled into a loose ponytail. I had the urge to kiss her, but our affair could wait until after work. Usually, anyway. Besides, unlike me, crime was her only job. I'd hate to mess it up for her.

"So it's just us. No one else had the guts to get involved, huh?" I wasn't surprised. "Well, quality over quantity. So long as any given group has Ricky, they'll win."

"If you love him so much, why don't you marry him?" Carla asked, immature as always.

"Because that's not legal in the state of New York. In any case, I think my wife might object just a little. Although the kids would love having another dad to mooch off of." I smiled briefly before turning serious. "Now, down to business. How or why Iron Man is tracking the black boy I passed off to the HRs, I don't know. What I do know is that he's hot on their trail. It may take him a while, but if he can trace DNA like a trail, then he'll turn up eventually. Plans?"

"I can call in a favor with Avifort, get the body pulled. This kid is our ace in the hole," Carla noted darkly. "So long as we have him we have leverage. He gets killed, we have a rampage on our hands. But after we get Iron Man, the kid's gotta go."

"Agreed." Ricky shoved his hands in his pockets. "I can handle the technological aspect of this. All I need is to get him in the right spot..." He looked at me and smiled. "And I think I know exactly how we can pull that off."

* * *

I learned my acting from my mother.

I learned everything from her. My sister, she took after our dad, all self righteous and prissy, but I was a momma's boy. My mother taught me how to make people believe I was innocent. She was the one who I inherited my innocent wide eyes from, the one who made me commit the Lord's Prayer to memory, the mentor who made me learn how to summon up tears. She was the one who'd pushed me towards the police force, something that had come in handy more times than I could count. She was why I was alive and successful. Her lessons I had learned well.

More than that, though, I knew how to read people. Even through that suit of armor, I had been able to tell how to get Iron Man off my case. He was a good kid - and probably just that, a kid. Young, and easily manipulated. Why else would he be so gung ho about not killing people and working so hard? He wasn't my age. He couldn't be. And one thing I knew from having kids was that they wanted to believe the best of people, even when given reasons not to. He had looked at my cross and my uniform and seen who he had wanted to see, an innocent police officer, a family man with faith, and he had let me go. It was a mistake I planned to make him regret eventually.

When he found me passed out (ish) in the alley behind the warehouse, I'm sure I gained sympathy points. How he was tracking this kid, I didn't know, but this would be as far as the trail went. Once we realized he was valuable, we had him wrapped up tight and moved across town. The warehouse was only a temporary storage point anyway, a point to coordinate transports. It was easy enough to call ahead and get it cleared out. It was even easier to plant myself and a few random bodies in the vicinity. We needed Iron Man to panic, to stay out of his right mind.

I have to say, though, any plan that requires someone to make shallow slashes in my neck and leave me laying in the gutter is a raw deal.

"Officer?" he landed beside me, kneeling down as my eyes flickered open. "Donato?"

I blinked up at him. "Hey," I said with feigned slurriness. "Some night, huh?"

"What happened?" he asked, eyes glowing and pulsing briefly. "Your vitals are stablizing. You'll live. Now, tell me everything you remember."

"M'kay." I sat up with his help. "Got a call from dispatch. Some squatters in the building, they said. Needed to tell them the area was off limits. Typical for this time of year. But they weren't squatters." I rubbed at my head and shut my eyes, recalling the cover story from memory. "Murderers. No idea what they were doing, but they had numbers on me and got my gun. Then it goes fuzzy. The others... the bodies... are they...?"

"Dead," he confirmed solemnly. A note of desperation was in his voice, and that pleased me. "I know this is difficult for you, but I need details. Who were they? What did they look like?"

"Sort of like this," I heard Galochio say. I fought hard not to roll my eyes at his dramatics as Iron Man's head turned to see the suited up figure standing in the alley's entrance.

His armor wasn't flight capable, but it was a sound enough protection against phsyical blows and damage. It was something of a pet project of his for months, and it had a few choice weapons built in that kept him on equal footing with most heroes. He'd been dying for a chance to test it out again after that last cape he'd killed, some kid with ice powers that he'd burned down to a skeleton with his flames. He'd played with the range and extended the length of his firepower a bit. It wasn't a perfect suit, but it didn't need to be. He was more crafty and underhanded in combat than most people expected, and that was all it took.

He kept his hand and thus his flamethrower trained on me. I knew he wouldn't shoot, but I tensed up and looked between the two armored figures. "Get out of here, Iron Man," I said quietly. "He's just a distraction to stall for time."

"No, _Officer_, I'm not. I'm here to end this before it starts." He stepped closer, weapon still trained on me. "Okay, Iron Man, here's how this works. You're going to listen to me, or the NYPD will be down one more officer."

"I'm listening," he replied tersely.

"I represent an organization bigger and more complex than you can possibly imagine. What we're doing or why we're doing it is none of your concern. What _is_ of relevance to you is that we have people everywhere. We have the whole city bugged." When Iron Man snorted, Galochio talked over him. "We know your little friend is missing. We have him. And we can do things to him no amount of therapy will ever cure." I could practically _hear_ him smirking under the dull orange-gray armor. "The question now is, how much is he worth to you?"

"What have you done with him?" Iron Man demanded, stepping closer. "Who are you people?"

"We're an alliance of sorts, representing nine nations' worth of criminal minds. We have been at this for a very long time, Iron Man. We were there before the Fantastic Four, before the Human Torch, before do gooders wore masks. Trust me when I say you don't want to know the things we _could_ be doing to him. He's alive albeit unconscious at the moment. If you play your cards right, you might even get him back that way." His voice was calm, smooth, steel wrapped in velvet. "Now, be a good boy and power down your lasers."

He complied; I saw the lights dim in his hands. "You have no idea who you've just pissed off, pal. For your sake, he better be alright."

"Spare me your dramatics. He's fine. For now, that is. I only wish I could say the same for you."

And that was when Zotello sprang the liquid nitrogen gun on him. His arms were encased in ice in moments, crawling up his shoulders and locking his limbs into place. She emptied the entire fuel pack on him, encasing him in ice so thick he didn't even have time to turn fully before he was rendered immobile. His eyes glowed underneath the cold, as did his chest, but his hands flickered once before going dim. He was trapped. She nodded to Galochio and he picked the block of ice up easily with his enhanced strength, and began hauling him into the building.

And weak, injured Officer Donato could only watch in horror, barely able to stumble to his feet.

I had to laugh when the door slammed, though I muffled it with my hands. A familiar warm feeling came over me, a kind of sadistic glee that I had enjoyed many times in my life. It was the satisfaction of having done something awful, the glee of having broken the law, the joy of hurting someone. I loved this feeling. I worshipped it. It was my God as much as money was, and I shifted from foot to foot giddily, barely able to contain myself in spite of the pain in my neck. I had just helped kill Iron Man. That felt wonderful. Disgustingly, sinfully, terribly wonderful.

_Sucker,_ I thought as I walked away. _What a dumbass. Kids should stay out of adult's affairs._

I didn't realize it at the time, but those words were going to come back to haunt me before dawn.


	3. 4AM to 4:24

I flicked on my iPod, yawning over the sounds of Iron Man's screams.

It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, but to hear him howling you'd think we'd been at it all night. He was strapped down to a table, most of his body still encased in ice, and Galochio was playing with various methods of killing him. It figured that a suit like that would have air filters and surge breakers, so we had to try other methods on him. Acid was an obvious choice. Galochio had a friend or two in the business of experimental chemicals. It was eating at his chest plate, letting off smoke, when Galochio had idly poured some onto the chest's glowing centerpiece. That was when the screams started.

At this point there wasn't much for me to do. As part of the back up plan, it was imperative I be on site but not visible. Iron Man still thought I was a civilian, so if worst came to worst I could be used again as a hostage. His friend had been secured far away. If all else failed our plan was to turn the boy over to the Torture Technician and let that fact stop Iron Man from doing his worst. Ah, the TT. Man had a reputation that proceeded him farther and faster than the goddamn Punisher. He was the ace in the hole of the entire organization. You didn't even need to give anyone to him, you just needed to make that threat and the whole of NYC would bow to you.

Honestly, though, this stage of the proceedings was boring to me. We needed him to die already so we could get our reward and go home. The longer this dragged out the more opportunities there were for things to go wrong. Until this was over, I wasn't going to be able to focus properly on anything. Hopefully this wouldn't tire me out too much; I had to go to church tomorrow. My son had been clamoring to sit in on the adult service instead of the kid's class, and it meant a lot to him. I smiled tiredly, flicking on Shuffle and letting the random music wash over me. My kids were so wonderful. They'd be so happy when they saw their Christmas present this year. With the bonus I'd get from taking down Iron Man I could take them to Disneyland. I'd have to come up with a cover explanation for my wife, but still...

My phone rang. I paused my music and flipped the cell open, walking down the hallway for a bit to keep the screaming out of the audio. "Yes, this is Vittore."

"Hey Dad," Marisolla's low voice greeted me. "Where are you? I got up to make breakfast and your usual snores weren't there."

My frown was evident in my voice. "I don't snore, Mari."

"Oh please, when I'm cooking omelettes I use your voice like a timer." She giggled. "Seriously, though, you know Mom freaks out if you're not back by five. Are you with Uncle Galochio or Aunt Zanotto?"

"Both. We've got coffee, we're BSing about work, the usual. Tell your mother I'll be home by no later than five, okay sweetie?"

"Okay. You want me to save you some pancakes?" I could hear her rummaging in the kitchen. "I can't sleep so I figured I'd get a head start on breakfast, maybe make Augie lunch since he hates the school food."

"Yes to the pancakes, but your brother is spoiled, Mari. Don't make it worse." I grinned. "Give him a bread and water for a week."

"Dad, that's terrible. You're such a jerk."

"Love you too, Mar-Mar."

"Bye Daddy."

I hung up and stretched. That killed some time. I wondered if they were done with Iron Man yet. Come to think of it, I didn't hear any screaming anymore. That was probably a good sign. It wouldn't be long now. Though it might've been faster to call in the Torture Technician, he would've found a way to take all the money from the operation, and inevitably the glory as well. I didn't want anyone to steal my thunder. This was my plan, my trap, the mighty Iron Man brought down by three mobsters armed with nothing but ingenuity and their own inventions. A real American success story.

So wrapped up in my thoughts was I that I didn't notice the hovering figure behind me. I turned, and all I saw was a flash of red and gold before it all went black.

* * *

"You lied to me."

I struggled to open my eyes, hissing at the light.

"Yeah, that might be a concussion. I don't care, _officer_. Where's Rhodey?"

"Who?" I asked blearily. A fist connected with my head. I choked on air.

"Rhodey." It was practically a command. "Just because I can't fly doesn't mean I can't kick your ass."

"The kid. Right. Um, did we hand him to Takamoto? Or, no, maybe it was Yakone, I think... Yeah, it was Yakone." I felt an iron grip latch onto my shoulder. "Soichiro Yakone, uptown. Owns three car dealerships, uses the shell of the old Toyota plant for his after-hours business. That's all I know, I swear to God!"

That was the wrong thing to say. I saw the eyes flicker and glow in the night. "God? You swear to _God_? You think your God's proud of what you've done? That He approves? You're an embarrassment to your faith."

"I'm doing this for my kids. It's not something I expect you to understand - look at your damn armor, it probably cost a fortune! You're just a trust fund baby who's getting by on mommy and daddy's hard work. You don't know what it's like to have four mouths to feed and a dead end job." My vision was blurry, but I felt him grab my arm and braced myself for what I knew was going to come. "And now you go all Punisher on me. Shit, why did I ever agree to do this?"

He threw me onto the ground. My shoulder connected painfully to the ground and I cried out against my will. "I'm done listening to you. You can't lie your way out of this."

"Then... then do me a favor." I struggled to get the rosary off my neck and thrust it out towards him. "Give this to my wife. Tell her it was a villain. I can't... I can't stop you from doing what you're about to, but at least let me die with dignity. My kids, they can't - if they know, about this, it'll be too much. Please, just-"

"I'm not going to kill you."

I gaped at him openly. I spoke three languages, but all that came out was a noise of disbelief. "What?" Then it hit me. "Oh. I see. I haven't given you enough info, right? This is where it gets ugly." I shut my eyes. "Our Father, thou art in Heaven-"

He kicked at me, sending me rolling over once. "Don't. Just don't. Against my better judgment, I'm going to uphold my moral standards. For now. And in return for me not kicking your ass, you're going to get me into Yakone's hideout."

"In my police uniform, bloody and dirty, at four thirty in the morning, minus my posse. Uh, I'm not sure this is going to work." I flinched back and held up my hands, the picture of meek defeat, when he took half a step towards me. "You can't even fly! How can I sneak you in like this? The whole place is crawling with Yakuza representatives, Tong reps, Costa Nostra, small time gangs trying to break into the racket, not to mention my group's guys. We'd be dead before we got to the door."

"You said _your_ guys are there. Who exactly are you people? Who do you work for?"

I chewed my lip, contemplating telling him. If I could come up with a convincing lie, it might buy us all more time. The truth might help my swap over to the mob, and with that bring me fortune and protection. Unfortunately the truth was also what we professionals in the underground world liked to call 'batshit insane' and wouldn't have been believable even if it had come from an honest officer. So I had to come up with a lie that made sufficient sense without being blatantly fraudulant. And while I sat there thinking that up, I wore on the patience of a man who had the ability to kill me with any given limb.

"We have a lot of names," I said slowly. "Think of it as like Viacom. They own studios, companies, groups, whole divisions, all working in different areas, doing different things. But they're all Viacom when you get right down to it. Only, it wouldn't work out really well for anyone to know that's what we are. So to some people we're the Alliance, or the Hollows, or any other group we need to be. Only the big players know which exact people and exact groups are ours."

"So Rhodey's swarmed by sociopathic subhumans of every kind. Great. How would you get in if I weren't with you?" he asked, clearly thinking this through carefully since I'd been doing everything in my power to screw him over all night.

"Well, I'd change clothes. Nothing too fancy, but something with our colors on me. I would have to fabricate some story to get past the entry guards, and probably a different one if my boss saw me, to say nothing of how many stories I'd have to spin to get Yakone off me if he spotted me. It'd be a lot less suspicious if other people were with me. One guy alone is a snitch. Three are just business as usual." I touched my neck gingerly. "Not like I could hide this, anyway. Or explain it if someone asked. Not to mention fooling my family afterwards... I don't see how I'd pull it off. Maybe if I was drunk enough to think it was a good idea or could turn invisible or something. Or both."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Alright, I'm going outside to make a few phone calls. If I can manage a disguise and get you new clothes, can you pull this off?"

I didn't need to feign my disbelief or horror. "Are you high? There are more crooks in that building right now than on Wall Street! It'd take a miracle to bluff you in, let alone get you to the kid! You'll just end up shot and in a gutter somewhere and they'll do the same to me. The hell are you thinking?"

"I'm _thinking_ that you really don't want to go to jail. But more than that, I think you don't want to be in the hands of the people you're working for, dropped off with a note by an angry Iron Man." He tilted his head, eyes glowing. "So I think you'll help me because you know what'll happen if you don't."

"Fine. It's your funeral. Just get me something nice to wear for my execution, and let me call my wife and bullshit some excuse for coming home late." I rubbed my temples, feeling a migraine coming on. "This is the dumbest thing I've ever done. You may not want me to pray, but if you're a religious guy, man, now the's time. The best case scenario is we get killed painlessly by some slick up and comer with a Brooklyn accent and a Mercedes."

"If you don't come through, trust me, you'll _wish_ you got shot by a Brooklynite. Now shut up and call your wife. And don't try anything stupid; you're already in deep."

"Oh, give it an hour," I said, flipping my phone open, "We can always get in deeper."


End file.
